


Counting down the days (tonight)

by sabrina_il (marina)



Category: Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Backstory, Collection: Purimgifts Day 2, F/F, F/M, Gen, History
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-19
Updated: 2011-03-19
Packaged: 2017-10-17 03:09:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/172283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marina/pseuds/sabrina_il
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five beds Katherine Pierce has slept on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Counting down the days (tonight)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Calasara](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calasara/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Chang'e](https://archiveofourown.org/works/140484) by [havocthecat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/havocthecat/pseuds/havocthecat). 



> This story is set in the same continuity as [Chang'e](http://archiveofourown.org/works/140484), although it's not at all necessary to read that story to understand this one.

536 years old, Katherine finds herself lying in a filthy, underground tomb. It's not that she minds sleeping on the floor – her skin will not truly suffer from the grime and bacteria, nor her lungs from the dust. It doesn't _harm_ her to live like this, dressed in rags and breathing stale air, but, even putting aside the matter of a regular blood supply, she refuses to accept this existence on principle.

Katherine Pierce will not tolerate the absence of luxury.

*

390 years old, Katherine smiles, burrowing under a heap of blankets. The bed is large and soft. Nothing but the best for the poor orphaned girl from Atlanta, not under Giuseppe Salvetore's roof.

The sheets still smell like Stefan. She's banished him to his own room for the night, having allowed him nothing more than an embrace, almost fully clothed. He hadn't pushed when she pretended to suddenly remember her virtue. She must play him well, if she means to have him, fully and for the rest of his life. He doesn't have Damon's desperate eyes, his urgency and openness. She must woo Stefan and entice him, slowly.

She rises on her elbows when Damon walks quietly, carefully into the room, and throws the blankets to the floor before he reaches the bed.

*

122 years old, Katherine lies on a soft, low bed decorated with ornate wood carvings. It's the house of some high ranking official; the room used to belong to one of his wives.

Pearl lies next to her, calmly observing, as Katherine studies the expensive trinkets littered around the room. She doesn't have to stay inside during the sunlight hours, of course, doesn't have to tolerate this artificial darkness, but Pearl is pleasant company and sometimes they end up spending the whole day together. Sometimes they argue, sometimes they strategize, occasionally they make each other laugh. Pearl is sharp and brilliant and unlike anyone Katherine's ever met. They share a common disdain for sentimentality.

She turns and meets Pearl's eyes, running her fingers down Pearl's stomach. Sometimes they share this, too.

*

17 years old, Katherine wakens alone at an inn, somewhere on the outskirts of London, to find a note by the bed, signed by Trevor. She's now nearly certain he's a vampire, and entirely certain he's completely in love with her.

She reads the lines over and over, feverishly, trying to make sure she hasn't missed anything, hasn't misread any of the signs. She needs this to work. She must have all his confidence, all his trust, she must bewitch him utterly or else he might refuse.

Finally she takes a deep breath, folds the paper neatly and begins making arrangements to face the day. She must look dazzling when she meets Trevor this evening. She has no illusions, her beauty and confidence, her body, are her most powerful resources.

She's only got one chance to save herself.

*

15 years old, Katerina watches the servant girl blow out the last candles in the room. The door closes and Katerina is left alone, free to close her eyes and conjure up the image of her beloved. His dark hair, the strong expanse of his shoulders, the way he always winks at her, discretely, when she passes by him in the street, escorted by her mother.

She runs her hands over her breasts, over the fabric of her nightgown, and thinks of other things. His hands, steady and gentle, his hair, drenched with sweat, his mouth resting against her collarbone.

It's been two months since she last bled. She doesn't know whether that means anything, but she's certain her mother will comment on it in a week or two, if the blood doesn't come. Of course, if she's really with child it won't take everyone else long to notice.

Katerina doesn't care. He'll take care of her if the worst turns out to be true. He'll leave his fiancée and marry her. She'll run away with him if she has to, no matter what her father says. She'll make a wonderful mother, she's certain of it.

She'll start thinking of names for the baby, just in case, tomorrow.


End file.
